


The Cats of Garreg Mach

by goldenteaset



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Brief Epistolary sections, Cats, Gen, POV Outsider, References to Depression, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 03:50:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20167681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenteaset/pseuds/goldenteaset
Summary: No one knows where the cats first came from, yet here they remain in Garreg Mach almost a thousand years later.





	The Cats of Garreg Mach

**Author's Note:**

> Happy International Cat Day! The cats must lead interesting lives in Garreg Mach too...even if we can't pet them for some reason. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem: Three Houses.

_No one knows where the cats first came from, yet here they remain in Garreg Mach almost a thousand years later. _

_Some claim they are a gift from the goddess, or a Saint’s companion. Others insist they simply hunt for mice inside these hallowed halls—and indeed, their efficiency in that regard is commendable. In the end, perhaps it’s best to assume that the cats of Garreg Mach call this place home. _

-An excerpt from The Life and Times of Garreg Mach, penned by Tomas in 1147. (It has yet to be finished.)

\---

Gray Cat lifts its head and sniffs. Its ears twitch as new sounds join new smells to create…something curious. No longer content to nap in the sun-soaked grass, it stretches all the way to its paws and goes to investigate. Perhaps it’s a new Tall One? There are always more of those lumbering giants, and with new Tall Ones come more pets and treats.

Either way, it’s something worth investigating.

Gray Cat spots its many fellows in the courtyard, rolling in the grass, perching on trees or grooming on the walkways. Not all of them seem to notice this new curiosity; but then some have more fondness for Tall Ones than others. (The Orange Tabby in particular has never forgiven a certain Tall One for trying to give it a bath, and insists on giving them a wide berth. Understandable.) The good news: that means more attention for Gray Cat.

Sniffing and listening (and rubbing up against anything that stands still long enough) as it goes, Gray Cat pads in the direction of the curiosity, catching whiffs of metal, Tall One-smell and…hmm. It flicks its long, fluffy tail for a bit and thinks. There is a different smell, a strange one it _may _have encountered before long ago. After giving itself a shake, it continues its journey. That strange smell will become familiar soon enough.

Gray Cat doesn’t have long to prowl, for the new Tall One appears right around the corner and into the courtyard.

And what a strange creature this is! Black legs with hints of white are what Gray Cat sees—and they have the precise curious scents it wanted to investigate. So it does, rubbing its head on the strange, scratchy flesh, breathing in these heady, pungent odors until it can firmly establish them as _this _Tall One’s. And now its own scents are mixed in too, of course; all of Garreg Mach must belong to the cats eventually. That is the way of things, and how they always shall be.

But that third smell…it’s still hard to place. It reminds Gray Cat of old, worn stone, of the smoldering tang of Crest magic. And something deeper, sadder.

Gray Cat rubs itself harder against the Tall One’s knee, until at last the legs walk away, making the ground rumble under Gray Cat’s paws. Another Tall One with a too-loud voice is calling them like a mother cat to its kitten. 

Only then does Gray Cat notice another curiosity: its fur felt no familiar pulse of life from the Tall One’s skin. Not even once.

…Oh, well. The Tall One has been claimed, and that is all that matters.

\---

The Orange Tabby pads along before a Tall One, ears perked back to always ensure that they’re following in a manner that other cats would call coincidental. It has a reputation to maintain. But even so, the other cats gave this Tall One high marks: they are very, very gentle and warm. (Even if their huge paws still make the ground shake.)

The Gentle Tall One’s voice whispers through the air, sounding amused. At its side, a bag that smells of fish sways invitingly.

The Orange Tabby flicks its tail in annoyance and decides that the stables are as good a place as any for food. It has learned much of this Gentle Tall One even in this short walk, and they have this in common: Tall Ones scare them down to their bones. Right now the stables smell of horses and hay, with whatever business Tall Ones were up to long cared for. And the cobblestones are sun-warmed under the Orange Tabby’s paws. It will do.

The Gentle Tall One digs into the crinkly bag and crouches down, offering flakes of baked fish in their huge pink paw before placing them on the ground as their custom dictates. It smells and tastes savory-sweet, this fish, and the bones crunch nicely between the Orange Tabby’s teeth. A worthy offering from a devoted servant.

High marks indeed! Sometimes the Orange Tabby enjoys being wrong. 

As a reward, the Orange Tabby sprawls out on its back and exposes its belly, paws curled up in contentment. But there’s a purpose hidden here. Many Tall Ones took advantage of that belly before, going straight for it without warning—and their huge insubordinate paw soon felt the wrath of the Orange Tabby’s rending claws.

Will this Tall One be the same?

The temptation clearly shows in the shifting of the Gentle Tall One’s lower paws, the way it pulls back in a worried jolt, the bitter tang of fear-stink. This one knows the test well. But then, after a pause, the paw that held fish reaches out to rub under the Orange Tabby’s chin, just the way that makes it purr and wiggle its foot with delight.

The contract is sealed. (That is, as long as this one doesn’t place him in the cold, fur-cloying nightmare that is water.)

\---

The Empty Tall One is well-known to the cats of Garreg Mach; her emptiness is hidden to all but those who can sense it as one can sense rats scuttling in the stone walls.

This was not always the case—the Empty Tall One began her time in Garreg Mach with that nothingness clotted inside her well-hidden from even the cats. She was simply another one of her kind. Not even the oldest cats know when it became clear that something was wrong. All they know is that when she walks the grounds, her long silver fur shining like sunlight dancing water, a yawning pit seems to open up around her. 

But they don’t fear her, for the Empty Tall One feeds and pets the cats without fail, treating them as kindly as she does her own people. And they tend to her in turn: they claim her as theirs and purr loud and long in her lap, trying to ease that clot of emptiness the only way they can. Sometimes it works—they can feel it recede bit by bit, like the wind through the trees. But just like the wind it always returns.

The cats continue helping anyway. The reasons vary from the selfish (more attention) to the simple (a cat walks alone, but not a Tall One, so we must walk with her), but regardless they care for this Tall One and her emptiness.

Perhaps one day that emptiness will be replaced by the sun’s warmth? From what the cats can tell, the New Tall One has helped in their own small way. (And even the wind changes course.)

Garreg Mach holds many things, be they cats or Empty Tall Ones, and it has room to spare if the cats wish it.

\---

_O Lazy Cat, how you nap in the sunshine!_

_Your feet refuse to leave my book, though your head is in the grass. _

_I hate to move you, yet this passage is most interesting—_

_And there you go, all befuddled,_

_Because my arms were falling asleep and twitched. _

_Ah, and now you rest again!_

_Would that my life were so simple and small. _

-A poem by Linhardt von Hevrig, written in place of this week’s assignment. (It is covered in ink-spattered paw prints.) 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated. :D


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